"Very well, then; shut thine eyes and begin!"
Cecil counted faithfully to the stroke of a hundred, and then springing to his feet with a shout, started down the stair, but to his surprise the priest was nowhere to be seen. Cecil searched behind the settle and under the table as if one could fancy Father White's stately figure in such undignified hiding-place! At length the child gave up the search and called aloud,—
"Where art thou?"
"Here, in this little room," answered a muffled voice, and Cecil ran to the door only to find it securely fastened by a bolt within.
"Come in," cried the voice.
"I cannot; it ith bolted."
"But you promised—"
"But the door ith fatht."
"What of that? 'A promise is a promise.'"
By this time Cecil, perceiving that jest and lesson were both pointed at him, stood with quivering lip, ready at a single further word to burst into tears; but the kind father, flinging wide the door, caught him in his arms, saying, "We must not hold each other responsible, my boy, for promises which God and man can make impossible of fulfilment. We must be gentle and charitable and easy to be entreated for forgiveness; and so good-night to mother, and I will lay thee again in thy trundle-bed."